With her eyes closed, Leo waited for the approval to fall upon her.
She imagined the happiness of her friends and the dissatisfaction of a few colleagues who truly expected her downfall.
But then… nothing came.
No sound. No reaction.
Only a thick, almost cruel silence—as if the very air around her had been drained away.
She frowned, thinking she must have misunderstood something, or that the wind had whispered conflicting words just to ruin her day.
But no.
No one was looking at her directly.
And after the words spoken by Silas, before the Archduke and the superiors, everything in her mind unraveled.
Turning slowly to the left, she saw, among the row of familiar faces, only one gaze fixed on her: Mariano.
That wretched bastard from the other night.
And there he was, his eyes dripping with an almost satisfied curiosity.
A kind of pleasure he would never openly show to a fellow-at-arms.
Unless things hadn't gone the way the other had planned—herself included.
— Jana Almadeira, cadent 401, offer your blade and swear your Creed.
The brown-haired girl from her row, much shorter than Leo, cast her a quick glance before moving to the other side.
Because of the cloth mask, it wasn't possible to see her face clearly, but her expression—along with those of others nearby—was enough for the realization to begin sinking in for Leo.
This was a mistake, right? They had… they had said—or rather, confused—her name?
Maybe it was another candidate's name and they'd mixed up the positions.
Yes, that had to be it. The best thing was to wait. It must have been a misunderstanding.
And she waited. One, two, five minutes.
Other candidates were called and moved to their new positions, but Leonia remained there.
An irritating voice echoed in her mind, replaying every detail of the training.
Everything had been right. Nothing seemed missing.
Leonia Bellius did everything perfectly.
But what if she really had failed some test?
She looked at her palm again.
No. Impossible. It couldn't be that, right? Not everyone manages to awaken their auradora at the beginning—it's extremely common.
To her right, Baron—the tall candidate with curly blond hair—kept watching her out of the corner of his eye, waiting to be called.
He seemed anxious to help her with the situation, yet unsure of what to do with her still standing there.
None of the candidates or superiors spoke up. No explanation. No objection. Just silence.
It was as if everyone had decided to ignore the elephant in the room.
The eager anticipation that had once lit the face of the twenty-year-old Leonia slowly drained away as the list of candidates neared its end.
Agony took hold along with anxiety, and with what could be considered a rude gesture, Leo raised her hand, drawing attention to herself as she addressed Simone Samarone:
— Annunciator, with your permission, I would like to interrupt.
The man did not respond immediately. He registered two more names before closing the parchment and looking at her.
— Candidate, is there a problem? — Silas provoked, as if he had been waiting for this.
— Yes. It seems there was incorrect information released about me.
— Incorrect? Nothing escapes my notice. Should I take this as you contesting my position?
Leo restrained the urge to roll her eyes.
Silas, to others, was admired. To her, he was merely an insufferable man in an expensive ceremonial outfit.
She took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure.
— On the contrary, sir. Due to my position among the rows, I believe I may not have heard my name when it was called. I'm only asking that you repeat it.
— That? — he wrinkled his nose slightly before reopening the parchment, searching through the long list. — Let me see… Leora… Levinia… ah, here it is! Leonia Bellius? — he lifted his eyes to her.
— That's right. — her heart beat slowly; her hands trembled.
It was just a mistake. She knew that.
— I didn't forget to call you. You were rejected, candidate 399—quite an achievement, if I may point out. — he said, without the slightest surprise.
— What? Rejected?! How?!
— Yes, you were rejected. Surprised? I don't care. Work on acceptance. Next! — he dismissed her without even stepping away from the dais.
The silence around them was absolute.
Everyone present had been trained to maintain neutrality.
But this was unacceptable.
In over sixty years of history, the Monteiro Archduchy had never had a candidate rejected after passing the Awakening—much less during the Graduation Ceremony itself.
And Leonia, somehow, had managed to accomplish this historic feat.
She didn't know whether to applaud herself for such a failure or pat her own shoulder in consolation.
Something was very wrong.
None of it made sense. If that information were true, she would have been called beforehand.
Or rather—she wouldn't have survived to see this moment.
The number of candidates continued to dwindle as the rows thinned, and Leo did not move. No one even thought to interfere or remove her.
She had no permission to cross to the other side, nor to remain among the candidates. How was this possible?
Her breathing quickened, her fist trembled, and an overwhelming sensation crept over her body, raising goosebumps along her skin.
What had she done wrong?
This was so unfair.
— Candidate Bellius, accept your result and leave the formation. You are disrupting the ceremony. — Silas ordered, impatient, almost as if he wanted to provoke her further.
— No. This result makes no sense. And I won't leave without an explanation… or the truth. — she planted her feet, completely ignoring the other four candidates still waiting to be called.
Unfortunately, they would have to wait.
— What truth, miss? — he continued, his disdain unwavering. Leo felt the jab in every word—and she hated it, especially that he was the one deciding her "destiny."
— That this is a bad joke and the parchment made a mistake for the first time. — she stepped forward, and no one around her moved or spoke.
They would never do something so reckless—not when they were so close to their goal. Most of them, however, seemed not to care.
Apparently, it was her against everyone.
— Mistaken? Are you challenging your superiors' decision, candidate? — his tone was exaggerated, as if her actions were insane and scandalous.
But nothing was more insane than all of this.
— I am. I passed all the tests. I'm just as qualified as everyone you called before me. And I see no clear or concrete reason to be subjected to such a humiliating scene.
— Humiliating?! First you disrespect me, and now you suggest fraud within the Council?
— Corruption has always existed in the human soul, and I see no reason why it wouldn't exist in someone who despises me so deeply.
— Are you also questioning my impartiality?! What does that have to do with this?
— Take my words however you wish, Silas Samarone. I don't care about your opinion. I just want the final result. — she spat.
— Enough. — Alphonse's firm voice interrupted. — Bellius, you are disrupting the ceremony. If you are dissatisfied, leave. We can resolve this later.
Leo had been so focused on pouring her anger onto the Annunciator that she ignored the true forces behind the decision.
Later? Was she supposed to leave like a dog with its tail between its legs?
This wasn't right.
Her expression, once merely displeased, hardened into disgust and revulsion as she looked at the members on the stage. Everyone there seemed to agree with the result.
As if they had known all along, without a single objection.
Which meant this scenario had been premeditated.
I didn't die in the Awakening. I'm alive. This victory is mine.
She let out a short, disbelieving laugh before turning her feet toward the snow, "ready to leave," without another word.
Head lowered, she passed the remaining candidates in silence.
She hadn't failed.
She didn't deserve this.
On the contrary.
She was the one who deserved it most.
And if this was what they wanted, she would have to prove her point, right?
The next name was announced, as if her interruption had been forgotten.
Her humiliation was irrelevant.
The ceremony continued as if nothing had happened.
A weak, cursed being—victory will never be yours.
No. That would never happen.
As she lifted her head toward the exit gates of the great arena, Leonia Bellius whispered to herself, resolute:
— If they won't declare my glory, then I'll tear it from them with my own hands.
She turned back toward the stage, her hands moving to her hips as she drew her two daggers.
She followed the same path the candidates had taken.
Without a creed. Without an oath.
— What are you doing, Cadent 399?! — Silas shouted from the pulpit.
She ignored the question.
— I'm not leaving until I get what's mine by right. — she rolled one of the blades—the one she would have offered in her ceremony—between her fingers. A bitter taste rose to her lips; lifting her head was not easy.
And who ever said it would be?
— Even if I have to take it.
With unmatched precision, she hurled the first blade. The distance was considerable—impossible for some—but for Leonia Bellius, the best of her class? Nothing was impossible.
Except being rejected.
The blade struck the aura shield around the Archduke, causing a faint crack before falling to the ground with a metallic clink.
Carmelius Monteiro—a tall man with graying black hair—raised his eyes toward the damaged shield, as if he scarcely cared about the threat. Then he looked back at the culprit with pure disinterest, one eyebrow lifting. He seemed completely unfazed.
— That was a warning. The next one, I won't miss. — she threatened, spinning the second blade in her hand.
Attempted assassination of a member of the Monteiro family was a serious crime, punishable by death.
Even though Carmelius was perfectly capable of defending himself, a sense of danger spread among the other candidates and Heralds, who moved to position themselves against her.
Now, no one could ignore her.
It seemed the gods hated her enough to always want to make her miserable. But not this time.
The gods could go to Edris with their destinies.
She would make her own.
A phrase that should have marked the end of her problems.
But it was only the beginning.